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MASTERS  IN  ART 


Itetajimjltt 

'Ulustrattiif 


Among  the  artists  to  be  considered  during  the  current,  1906, 
Volume  may  be  mentioned,  Bouguereau,  Goya,  Ghirlandajo, 
and  Wilkie.  'I'he  numbers  of  ‘ Masters  in  Art  ’ which  have  al- 
ready appeared  in  1906  are  ; 

Part  75,  JANUARY STUART 

Part  74,  FEBRUARY DAVID 

Part  75,  MARCH BOCKLIN 

Part  76,  APRIL SODOMA 

Part  77,  MAY CONSTABLE 

Part  78,  JUNE METSU 

PART  79,  the  issue  FOR 

lulp 

WILL  TREAT  OF 

Suflrca 


NUMBERS  ISSUED  IN  PREVIOUS  VOLUMES 
OF  ‘MASTERS  IN  ART’ 


VOL.  1. 

Part  i,  VAN  DYCK 
Part  2,  TITIAN 
Part  5,  VELASQUEZ 
Part  4,  HOLBEIN 
Part  5,  BOTTICELLI 
Part  6,  REMBRANDT 
Pari-  7,  REYNOLDS 
Part  8,  MILLET 
Part  9,  GIO.  BELLINI 
Part  10,  MURILLO 
Part  11,  HALS 
Part  12,  RAPHAEL 

^Sculpture 

VOL.  3. 


VOL.  2. 

Part  ij,  RUBENS 
Part  14,  DA  VINCI 
Part  15,  DURER 
Part  16,  MICHELANGELO* 
Part  17,  MI  CHELANGELOf 
Part  18,  CORO  T 
Part  19,  BURNE-JONES 
Part  20,  TER  BORCH 
Part  21,  DELLA  ROBBIA 
Part  22,  DEL  SARTO 
Part  23,  GAINSBOROUGH 
Part  24,  CORREGGIO 
f Painting 

VOL.  4. 


PART25,  PHIDIAS 
Part  26,  PERUGINO 
Part  27,  HOLBEIN  § 

Part  28,  TINTORETTO 
Part  29,  P.  deHOOCH 
Part  30,  NATTIER 
Part  31,  PAUL  POTTER 
Part  32,  GIOTTO 
Part  3J>  PRAXITELES 
Part  34,  HOGARTH 
Part  35,  TURNER 
Part  36,  LUINI 

§ Drawings 

VOL.  5. 


Part  57,  KOMNEY 
Part  38,  FRA  ANGELICO 
Part  39,  WATTEAU 
Part  40,  RAPHAEL* 

Part  41,  DONATELLO 
Part  42,  GERARD  DOU 
Part  43,  CARPACCIO 
Part  44,  ROSA  BONHEUR 
Part  4;,  GUIDO  RENI 
Part  46,  P.  deCHAVANNES 
Part  47,  GIORGIONE 
Part  48,  ROSSETTI 

VOL.  6. 


Part  49,  BARTOLOMMEO  Part  61,  WATTS 

Part  50,  GREUZE  Part  6z,  PALMA  VECCHIO 


Part  ;i,  DURER* 

Part  ;z,  LOTTO 
Part  53,  LANDSEER 
Part  34,  VERMEER 
Part  PINTORICCHIO 
Part  ;6,  THE  VAN  EYCKS 
Part  57,  MEISSONIER 
Part  ;8,  BARYE 
Part  59,  VERONESE 
Part  60,  COPLEY 

* Kngravings 


PART63,  VIGEE  LE  BRUN 
Part  A4,  MANTEGNA 
Part6;,  CHARDIN 
Part66,  BENOZZO 
PART67,  JAN  STEEN 
Part  68,  MEMLINC 
Part  69,  CLAUDE 
Part  70,  VERROCCHIO 
Part  71,  RAEBURN 
Part  71,  FILIPPO  LIPPI 


ALL  THE  ABOVE  NAMED  ISSUES 
ARE  CONSTANTLY  KEPT  IN  STOCK 

Prices  on  and  after  January  i , igo6  ; Single  numbers  of 
back  vnlumcs,  10  cents  each.  Single  numbers  of  the  current  1906 
volume,  I 5 cents  each.  Bound  volumes  l , 2,  3,4,  5,  and  6,  contain- 
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The  Temple 
at 

Psestum 


This  facsimile  reproduc- 
tion of  the  water-color  by  Hubert 
G.  Ripley  was  made  for  a special  feature  of 
The  Architectural  Reviezv.  It  is  7^x9^, 
and  will  be  appreciated  by  every  one  interested 
in  Greek  architecture.  We  had  one  hundred 
extra  reproductions  made  and  offer  them  to 
Masters  in  Art  subscribers  for  50  cents  each, 
post-paid.  The  above  illustration  gives  no 
idea  of  the  fine  color  effect  of  the  print,  which 
the  artist  has  approved  as  being  a perfect  re- 
production of  the  original  painting.  We  can- 
not too  strongly  recommend  our  readers  to 
secure  a print  for  framing. 


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i PEACHED  BY  THE 

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^ /zu'ST^AmD  Mscff/pmE" 
p/l^fPmETS('ca^'llw/;ycalm£^I 
m'sW.-jir/jiEN/ssc/spujv- 
PEE’rHEmwmmrmESAm 
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Portfolios 

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MASTERS  IN  ART 


e tiEf  tl 

DUTCH  SCHOOL 


M'D 

M3; 


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J^IASTKKS  IN  Airr  Pr.A'I'K  I 


PHOTOGRAPH  BY  BRAUN,  CLEMENT  4 CIE 


MKTSU 

AA’  Ui*>’ir.KR  AAMI  A YOUNG  UAJJY 
UOUVRK,  PARIS 


*1 


MASTKHS  IX  AMT  PI.A'l'K  II 


FROM  A photograph  BY  BALDWIN  COOLIOGE 


M 

TUK  I.KTTI'IK-WIUTKK 
o'wxKJ)  I’.v  M H.  A r,i' iU‘:i ) HKrr,  r.nx  n< )X 


MAS'J’KRS  I.V  A}iT  PLATK  III 
Photograph  by  hanfstaengl 
[‘-M7] 


AIKTSU 

TUI':  Vl()riON(’KI.I.O  3>LAYKH 

I'AF.ACK,  I.OA’DOi^ 


MASTKKS  IX  AKT  i^I-ATK  JV 

PHOTOGRAPH  BY  BRAUN,  CLEMENT  & CIE 

[ 219  ] 


•SI 

AaV  OIJ)  WUMAX  SKI.TJXa  KISH 
■SVAI.I.Ar.K  CnM-K(VI  H)X,  I.OXDOX 


w astj:j{S 

PHOTOGRAPH 


XnH'i'imunnK'S  c.oi.i^Kr.'l’loN,  J.uNliON’ 


MASTERS  IN  A ItT  PLATE  YI 


rHOTOORAPH  BY  BRAUN,  CLEMENT  A CIE 

[ 223  ] 


MKTSl" 

'J’lIK  VKGETAJU.E  MA  HK  E T AT 
Louvin  :,  I* A ms 


AMSTERDAM 


MASTKHS  JX  AJ{T  PLA’l'K 

PHOTOGRAPH  BY  HANFSTAENGL 

[2-r>] 


VII 


pnH'i’HAi'r 


.IX  c 


MASTKJiS  JX  AJiT  Pr.A'IM 

PHOTOGRAPH  BY  HANFSTAENGL 


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Xv\'i  ioxAT<  (;aij-kkv,  i.nxnox 


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J'DHTRAIT  OF  MFTSi:  HV  HIMSp:LF  J^UCKlXaHAM  FALACB 

This  portrait  shows  us  the  painter  at  about  thirtv-five  years  of  age.  He  has  repre- 
sented himself  standing  at  an  open  arrh-topped  window,  the  frame  of  which  Is  cov- 
ered with  a grape-vine.  He  holds  in  one  hand  a palette  and  mahlstick,  and  between 
the  fingers  of  the  other  a bit  of  chalk  with  which  he  is  about  to  make  a sketch 
upon  a panel  standing  against  a box  on  the  window-sill.  The  picture  is  a fine 
specimen  of  Metsu’s  art.  It  measures  one  foot  three  inches  high  by  a little  over  a 
foot  wide. 


MASTERS  IN  ART 


BORN  1 0 30:  DIED  1007 
DUTCH  SCHOOL 

Beyond  a few  meager  facts,  nothing  is  known  of  the  life  of  Gabriel 
Metsu,  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  “ little  masters  ” of  Holland.  His  father, 
Jacques  Metsu,  was  a painter  of  no  great  note,  who  resided  for  many  years  in 
Leyden,  where  he  was  three  times  married.  Gabriel,  the  son  of  his  third  wife, 
Jacomina  Garnijerns,  was  born  in  that  city  in  1630  — fifteen  years  later  than 
the  date  given  by  Houbraken,  the  Vasari  of  Dutch  painters. 

It  is  generally  supposed  that  Metsu  received  his  first  instruction  in  art  from 
his  father,  and  that  later  he  entered  the  studio  of  Gerard  Dou,  then  the  most 
popular  painter  of  Leyden.  He  is  said  to  have  been  on  terms  of  friendship 
with  Jan  Steen,  his  elder  by  only  a few  years,  and  some  of  Metsu’s  scenes  from 
the  humbler  walks  of  life  bear  a certain  similarity  to  the  works  of  that  painter, 
although  wholly  devoid  of  the  coarseness  which  frequently  characterizes  Jan 
Steen. 

That  Metsu  early  attained  proficiency  in  his  art  is  indicated  by  the  fact  that 
in  1648,  when  he  was  only  eighteen  years  old,  his  name  occurs  on  the  list  of 
members  of  the  Gild  of  Painters  of  his  native  town. 

In  1650  he  removed  to  Amsterdam,  where  he  probably  spent  the  remainder 
of  his  life.  There  he  came  under  the  influence  of  Rembrandt,  who  was  then 
living  in  that  center  of  the  art  world  of  Holland,  and  whose  impress  is  per- 
ceptible in  many  of  Metsu’s  works,  even  when  the  subjects  are  totally  dissim- 
ilar from  those  of  the  greatest  of  all  Dutch  painters. 

Eight  years  after  his  removal  to  Amsterdam  Metsu  married  Isabella  Wollf, 
and  in  the  following  year  he  obtained  the  right  of  citizenship  in  the  city  of  his 
adoption.  He  was  then  at  the  height  of  his  powers.  His  scenes  of  peasant  life, 
his  few  portraits,  and,  above  all,  his  little  pictures  of  life  in  the  parlors  or 
boudoirs  of  the  wealthy  class  of  society,  pictures  in  which,  after  the  manner  of 
Ter  Borch,  although  with  many  differences  in  conception  and  technique,  he 
portrayed  with  admirable  precision  richly  carved  furniture,  soft  hangings,  and 
the  delicate  texture  of  satin  gown  or  velvet  bodice,  were  all  highly  prized  by 
his  contemporaries.  His  few  religious  subjects  are  notably  inferior  in  merit. 

Houbraken  tells  us  that  in  1658  Metsu  underwent  a serious  surgical  oper- 
ation. The  inference  drawn  by  many  writers  from  this  statement  has  been 
[233] 


24 


MASTERS  IN  ART 


that  death  followed  immediately;  no  such  assertion,  however,  is  to  be  found  in 
Houhraken’s  pages,  and,  as  a matter  of  fact,  the  dates  on  some  of  Metsu’s 
works  prove  that  several  years  later  he  was  still  living.  In  1667  his  death  is  re- 
corded as  having  occurred  in  Amsterdam,  where  he  was  buried  on  the  twenty- 
fourth  of  October. 

In  his  brief  life  of  thirty-seven  years  Gabriel  Metsu  is  said  to  have  painted 
between  one  hundred  and  twenty  and  one  hundred  and  thirty  works.  His 
well-nigh  faultless  composition,  admirable  drawing,  delicate  observation  of 
character,  the  beauty  of  his  coloring,  and  his  masterly  treatment  of  light  and 
shade  combine  to  place  him  among  the  foremost  of  seventeenth-century  Dutch 
painters. 


'Cfjt  2lrt  of  ittttsu 

The  following  extract  is  from  an  issue  of  ‘ The  Portfolio’  (1904)  treating  of  ‘ The 
Peel  Collection  and  the  Dutch  School  of  Painting,’  by  Sir  Walter  Armstrong. 

Dutch  painting  begins  with  the  seventeenth  century.  It  would  not  be 
difficult  to  prove  — indeed  it  is  now  beginning  to  be  generally  acknowl- 
edged— that  the  natural  gift  of  the  Dutchmen  for  expression  in  paint  was  one 
of  the  chief  factors  in  the  glory  of  that  early  school  which  extended  from  Haar- 
lem almost  to  the  gates  of  Paris.  But  the  seductions  of  Italy,  and  that  craving 
for  the  exotic  which  has  so  often  been  the  ruin  of  art,  supervened,  and  turned 
the  sixteenth  century  into  an  interregnum  of  insincerity,  during  which  painters 
were  obeying  a disastrous  fashion,  instead  of  listening  to  the  counsels  of  their 
own  emotions.  It  was  not  entirely  bare  of  great  art,  of  course,  but  on  the  whole 
the  sixteenth  century  was  a period  of  hibernation,  during  which  the  faculties 
which  had  illuminated  the  fifteenth  were  at  least  asleep;  and  it  was  not  until 
William  of  Orange  had  been  thirty  years  in  his  grave  that  the  sap  began  to  rise 
in  earnest  and  the  tree  of  art  to  put  forth  leaves  and  flowers. 

Opinions  vary  as  to  the  immediate  origin  of  the  grand  epoch.  To  some, 
who  have  noticed  that  great  imaginative  developments  have  often  followed 
periods  of  storm  and  danger,  Dutch  painting  in  the  seventeenth  century  em- 
bodies the  reaction  from  Dutch  agony  and  rage  in  the  sixteenth.  To  others  it 
seems  a natural  result  of  peace  and  returning  hope,  and  its  form  to  be  deter- 
mined by  the  configuration  of  Holland  and  the  organization  of  Dutch  society. 
The  truth  probably  is  that  to  a combination  of  these  immediate  causes  with 
the  results  upon  character  of  the  whole  history,  so  much  of  it  geographical,  of 
Holland,  must  be  ascribed  the  nature  of  her  art  during  the  generations  when 
it  was  truly  national.  The  events  of  the  sixteenth  century  brought  matters  to 
a head.  The  suifierings  of  the  United  Provinces  under  the  Spaniards  developed 
an  extreme  energy  of  character,  while  the  configuration  of  the  soil  and  the 
social  arrangements  put  neither  difficulty  nor  temptation  in  the  artist’s  way. 
But  these  forces  did  not  actually  produce  great  art.  Conditions  equally  favor- 
[234] 


M ETSU 


25 


able  in  such  respects  have  existed  elsewhere  and  among  peoples  naturally 
artistic,  without  leading  to  notable  achievements.  The  important  difference 
between  Holland  after  her  conquest  of  a practical  independence  and,  let  us 
say,  France  after  the  fall  of  the  Bastille,  lay  in  the  fact  that  the  latter  nation 
followed  a model,  while  the  former  did  not.  . . . 

Many  things  combined  to  make  the  French  turn  to  Greece  and  Rome  for 
an  esthetic  lead.  They  had  dethroned  a church,  and  sought  for  a substitute 
in  the  symbolism  which  had  sufficed  for  Pericles.  They  had  destroyed  a 
monarchy  and  looked  for  political  ideals  to  the  great  republics  of  the  past. 
They  had  overturned  society  and  banished  its  ambitions  and  emblems.  It 
was  almost  inevitable,  with  changes  like  these  and  with  the  sudden  elevation 
of  the  half-educated  to  the  guidance  of  affairs,  that  a superficial  but  plaus- 
ible idea  like  the  revival  of  classical  perfection  should  capture  their  esthetic 
imaginations.  It  was  fatal  to  art.  Men  of  genius  contrived,  of  course,  to 
show  their  powers  in  spite  of  exotic  forms,  but  permanent  French  character- 
istics and  ambitions  found  no  general  expression  between  1700  and  1815. 

With  Holland  it  was  otherwise.  The  Dutch  character  had  been  formed 
by  centuries  of  conflict  with  the  forces  of  nature.  The  soil  of  Holland  only 
exists  at  all  because  generations  of  Dutchmen  have  been  patient,  sturdy,  and 
self-reliant.  The  incessant  war  with  the  sea  and  the  Rhine  had,  by  a slow 
process  of  selection,  turned  the  whole  population  into  men  who  would  not 
accept  a foreign  ideal  or  an  exotic  scheme  of  life.  They  had  made  their  own 
country  and  meant  to  keep  it  for  themselves.  They  had  expelled  the  Spaniard 
and  thrown  his  gewgaws  after  him.  They  had  determined  that  their  churches 
and  their  homes  should  be  Dutch,  and  that  habits  of  the  South  should  be 
reversed  because  they  were  southern  habits.  . . . 

Here  and  there,  no  doubt,  the  troubles  of  Holland  are  echoed  in  her  art  — 
a few  battle-scenes,  and  scenes  of  rape  and  pillage,  find  their  places  in  most 
great  galleries.  The  picturesque  accoutrements,  too,  of  the  seventeenth-cen- 
tury man-of-war  insure  his  presence  on  a goodly  number  of  panels,  even  by 
such  peaceful  creators  as  Ter  Borch,  Metsu,  and  De  Hooch.  But  on  the  whole 
the  preoccupation  is  with  tranquillity,  domesticity,  and  the  daily  routine  of  a 
people  providing  in  security  for  the  evolution  of  their  families  and  the  rotation 
of  their  crops. 

A hundred  years  of  struggle  with  a southern  nation  and  southern  ways  had 
fired  their  imagination  and  made  them  ready  for  artistic  and  intellectual  de- 
velopment on  a large  scale.  Hatred  of  their  enemy  and  his  ideas  had  turned 
them  aside  from  that  field  of  art  in  which  all  Europe,  including  themselves, 
had  once  done  so  much.  Here,  then,  we  have  conditions  which  invariably  pro- 
duce great  art:  on  the  one  hand  an  awakened  and  excited  intelligence  seeking 
an  outlet;  on  the  other,  an  entirely  new  problem  pressing  for  solution. 

The  foundation  of  all  good  art  is  sincerity.  Art  is  the  expression  of  emotion, 
or  passion,  to  use  a nobler  word,  in  some  medium  appealing  to  the  senses.  In- 
sincerity is  therefore  its  negation.  . . . True  works  of  art  are  the  things  in 
which  we  enjoy  the  real  emotions  of  those  who  make  them.  They  are  the  un- 
lying records  by  which  we  men  of  to-day  can  appreciate  the  humanity  of  those 
[ 235  ] 


26 


MASTERS  IN  ART 


from  whom  we  descend.  They  are  entirely  vitiated  by  insincerity.  An  art 
founded  upon  the  perfections  of  another  age,  an  art  governing  itself  not  by  the 
genuine  preferences  of  those  who  practise  it,  but  by  the  examples  of  men  who 
burned  with  different  ambitions,  can  never  be  really  alive.  At  best  it  pleases 
only  as  a feat. 

If  we  accept  this  idea,  we  must  confess  that  a clean  slate,  such  as  the  Dutch 
painters  had  before  them  in  1600,  was  the  first  step  towards  a fresh  record  in 
art.  It  is  now  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  allot  the  credit  for  the  new  depar- 
ture. Whether  the  supply  created  the  demand  or  the  demand  the  supply  is, 
however,  a petty  matter  of  chronology.  It  is  quite  certain  that  if  the  Dutch 
mind  had  not  been  attuned  to  the  new  idea  of  setting  domestic  life  on  the  ped- 
estal hitherto  occupied  by  history  and  theology,  the  substitution  never  would 
have  taken  place.  . . . 

By  the  end  of  the  first  quarter  of  the  seventeenth  century  a body  of  well- 
equipped  Dutch  painters,  with  a good,  but  not  too  good,  technical  tradition 
behind  them,  were  face  to  face  with  an  ideal  which  was  at  once  national  and 
new.  If  we  look  fairly  at  any  of  the  great  periods  of  art  we  shall  find  that 
parallel  conditions  to  these  were  always  present.  They  can  be  stated  still  more 
simply  by  saying  that  an  awakened  artistic  imagination  always  produces  fine 
work  when  compelled  to  be  sincere. 

As  for  the  dignity  of  Dutch  ideals,  it  varied  with  individual  masters,  just 
as  that  of  the  Italians  varied.  Personally,  I am  unable  to  see  why  “ the  burning 
messages  of  prophecy,  delivered  by  the  stammering  lips  of  infants,”  should  be 
set  on  a higher  plane  than  creations  of  exquisite  beauty,  born  of  the  union  of  a 
profound  sense  of  nature’s  universal  rightness  with  an  eye  for  the  expressive 
power  of  art.  Duccio  and  Giotto  labored  for  the  Church  and  spent  their  force 
on  mysteries  which  neither  they  nor  their  patrons  understood.  Their  work  has 
the  charm  that  so  often  belongs  to  immature  things.  . . . Their  “ stammering” 
consisted  in  turning  large  ideas  into  familiar  symbols  and  clothing  those  with 
the  dramatic  force  which  so  often  goes  with  immaturity  of  knowledge.  Force- 
ful naivete  is  no  longer  possible  to  us.  We  are  compelled  to  treat  the  dogmas 
of  our  faith  in  an  abstract  and  therefore  non-pictorial  way.  That  we  cannot 
use  the  imagery  of  extreme  youth  any  more  is,  however,  no  justification  for 
confusing  it  with  revelation,  or  for  setting  work  in  which  it  prevails  above  con- 
summate things. 

What  was  the  Dutch  ideal  ? Was  it  low,  as  a matter  of  fact  .?  Dr.  Johnson’s 
flank  attack  at  the  Thrale  auction  occurs  to  me.  “Gentlemen,  we  are  not  here 
to  sell  a parcel  of  old  vats  and  barrels;  we  are  here  to  sell  the  potentiality  of 
growing  rich  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice!”  So  with  the  Dutch  painters; 
their  subjects  were  not  silk  dresses  and  drunken  boors,  young  women  at  spinets 
and  old  ones  gutting  fish,  cows  and  pigs,  horses  full  of  labor  and  groups  of 
oaks.  Their  subjects  — or  subject,  for  they  had  but  one — was  the  beauty  of 
human  life  lived  under  conditions  which  made  it  free.  Holland  at  peace,  Hol- 
land with  its  men,  women,  and  children  pursuing  the  careers  to  which  they 
were  born,  was  the  objective  basis  of  their  art.  They  set  themselves  to  record 
life  as  it  was,  and  in  so  doing  to  criticize  it  in  the  only  fair  and  effective  way. 

[236] 


M ETS  U 


27 


They  wished  above  all  things  to  be  veracious,  and  to  tell  only  what  they 
knew.  They  neither  preached  nor  moralized,  but  left  the  facts  to  do  both. 
Their  pictures  are  the  best  of  chroniclers,  for  they  supply  that  truth  of  back- 
ground which  is  the  greatest  difficulty  of  the  historian.  By  their  means  the 
look  of  Dutch  life  in  the  seventeenth  century  is  better  known  than  that  of  any 
other  country. 

The  field  embraced  by  their  ambitions  was  not  wide,  but  they  explored  it 
thoroughly.  They  confined  themselves  to  the  society  they  knew,  but  they  made 
their  descriptions  ample.  Theirs  was  the  most  various  of  all  the  older 
schools.  . . . 

The  greatest  painters  of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries  were  often 
stereotyped,  repeating  one  design  again  and  again  with  changes  involving  no 
thought  whatever.  It  was  never  so  with  the  Dutchmen.  Perhaps  the  demand 
for  newness  was  in  the  air,  but  I prefer  to  believe  their  variety  to  be  the  result 
of  their  ideal.  When  you  set  out  to  describe  society  you  must  be  various.  . . . 
Combine  what  we  are  told  by  Wouwermann  and  what  we  know  from  Ter 
Borch,  Metsu,  Jan  Steen,  Adriaen  van  Ostade,  Teniers,  Pieter  de  Hooch, 
Ruysdael,  and  Hobbema,  and  we  get  the  materials  for  a vision  of  Dutch  life 
in  which  we  can  implicitly  believe.  The  Dutchmen  painted  the  social  history 
of  their  country  for  a century,  and  in  doing  so  gave  us  a document  which  will 
lose  its  value  only  with  existence. 

There  remains  the  question  of  the  moral  dignity  of  the  Dutch  character  and 
therefore  of  the  art  in  which  it  is  embodied.  Granting  that  truth,  objective  as 
well  as  subjective  fidelity,  is  a pictorial  virtue,  does  the  kind  of  truth  told  by 
the  Dutch  painters  strengthen  their  claim  on  our  sympathies  or  does  it  not  ? 

Let  us  look  at  the  panorama  they  have  left  us.  I do  not  see  how  any  one  can 
be  widely  familiar  with  the  school  without  conceiving  a deep  respect  for  the 
life  it  records.  Holland  has  always  been  a frank  country.  The  large  families 
and  small  flimsy  houses  have  there  made  impossible  silences  and  privacies 
which  seem  to  us  a part  of  nature’s  scheme.  Dutch  painters  were  not  prevented 
by  prudery,  or  rather,  let  me  say,  by  a severe  convention,  from  offering  their 
clients  pages  appealing  to  the  mere  animal  instinct.  They  were  restrained  by 
a just  sense  of  art  and  by  a fine  eye  for  the  broad  permanent  forces  of  society. 
Even  Jan  Steen,  who  turns  up  the  seamy  side  of  life  oftener  than  others,  never 
paints  degradation  with  sympathy.  He  shows  how  the  peasant  lived — how 
he  passed  the  hours  left  him  after  his  cows  were  milked,  his  dikes  secured,  and 
his  crops  at  home.  He  shirks  nothing,  but  through  it  all  he  weaves  the  thread 
of  generous  humanity,  carrying  its  load  for  one  generation  and  passing  it  on 
lighter  to  the  next.  The  school  as  a whole  is  free  from  any  tendency  to  allow 
the  non-esthetic  value  of  any  particular  class  of  incident  to  give  it  prominence 
in  their  list  of  subjects.  . . . The  Dutch  painters  aimed — whether  con- 
sciously or  not  is  neither  here  nor  there — at  leaving  behind  them  a true  pic- 
ture of  an  admirable  society:  which  brings  us  back  to  our  point  that  it  was  an 
admirable  society. 

Again,  there  are  the  great  portraits.  All  these  point  to  one  conclusion,  and 
their  meaning  is  unmistakable.  The  Dutchman  of  the  great  century  was 
[23  7 ] 


28 


MASTERS  IN  ART 


neither  handsome  nor  elegant,  he  was  neither  poet  nor  dreamer.  His  imagina- 
tion was  robust  and  essentially  practical.  He  cheerfully  faced  the  prospect  of 
long  years  of  fighting  and  hard  work,  when  they  promised  to  rid  his  country  of 
the  southron  and  to  add  millions  of  broad  acres  to  its  service.  He  swept  out 
the  Spaniard  and  suppressed  the  Haarlemer  Meer  just  as  coolly  as  he  now  pro- 
poses to  abolish  the  Zuyder  Zee.  Compared  to  the  Italian  or  to  the  Elizabethan 
Englishman,  he  was  dull,  massive,  narrow,  and  intolerant.  But  he  took  long 
views.  His  eyes  were  clear,  and  within  his  own  horizon  they  saw  what  there 
was  to  be  seen.  His  aspect  towards  those  flowery  sides  of  life  which  meant  so 
much  to  men  of  southern  blood  was  one  of  apparent  indifference.  . . . 

If  we  turn  to  those  pages  from  daily  life  which  are  the  staple  of  the  Dutch 
painters  we  find  their  spirit  determined  by  the  character  we  read  in  the  por- 
traits. The  objective  aim  is  to  make  a true  presentment.  The  Dutchman  does 
not  execute  for  the  sake  of  execution.  He  has  selected  for  the  sake  of  truth,  and 
designed  for  the  sake  of  art,  before  execution  begins.  Of  any  detail  in  a picture 
by  one  of  the  greater  masters  you  may  safely  assert  that  he  put  it  in,  that  he 
placed  it,  shaped  it,  and  colored  it,  for  the  sake  of  art  and  truth;  that  he  painted 
it  as  well  as  he  could  for  the  enjoyment  of  his  own  virtuosite.  The  real  initial 
motive  of  every  true  artist  is,  of  course,  to  create  beauty;  but  putting  that  ques- 
tion aside  for  the  present  as  one  not  raised  just  now,  I repeat  that  the  aim  of 
the  Dutchman  was  to  present  the  highest  truths  he  knew,  which  were  those  of 
human  life  as  it  was  lived  by  the  strenuous  men  and  women  of  his  time  and 
country.  . . . 

All  the  better  Dutch  painters  are  full  of  thought  of  exactly  the  same  kind  as 
that  which  breathes  from  “three  pen-strokes  of  Raphael.”  No  one  can  seri- 
ously assert  that  the  three  pen-strokes  in  question  could  be  pregnant  with  any- 
thing more  than  an  esthetic  value:  the  poise  of  a torso,  the  turn  of  a limb,  the 
carriage  of  a head.  In  Raphael  these  three  lines  would  be  ultimately  destined 
to  association  with  matters  we  have  all  been  trained  to  revere,  while  in  a 
Dutchman  their  concern  would  be  with  familar  things.  But  that  makes  no 
difference  to  their  art.  Raphael  and  Metsu  alike  are  engaged  in  building  up 
a structure  of  line,  mass,  and  rhythmical  lights  and  shadows,  which  shall  end 
in  unity,  and  both  are  employing  their  thoughts  in  the  same  way.  That  one  is 
the  servant  of  an  ancient  church  and  its  head,  and  the  other  of  a sturdy  people 
determined  to  get  down  to  the  bed-rock  for  the  foundation  of  a new  order,  is  no 
justification  for  asserting  a difference  in  kind  between  tbeir  arts.  Nothing  is 
more  significant  than  the  phrase  so  often  heard:  “I  don’t  care  about  this  or 
that  class  of  art.”  No  man  has  time  enough  to  steep  himself  deeply  in  the 
ideas  of  all  the  schools,  or  to  know  all  the  masters  as  he  knows  his  favorites. 
But  the  man  who  knows  one  real  school,  who  truly  appreciates  the  qualities 
upon  which  its  greatness  depends,  will  understand  and  respect  all  the  others. 
If  he  can  truly  taste  the  art  of  Michelangelo,  he  will  not  jeer  at  Jan  Steen,  but 
will  confess  that,  different  in  kind  and  in  dignity  though  their  themes  maybe, 
their  art,  their  use  of  the  language  which  knits  generation  to  generation 
through  the  ages,  is  essentially  the  same. 


[238] 


M E T S U 


29 


WILHELM  BODE  ‘ZEITSCHRIFT  FOR  BILDENDE  KUNST’  1S69 

The  variety  of  Metsu’s  subjects  and  his  unfailingly  appropriate  treatment 
of  the  same  are  the  causes  not  only  of  his  being  compared  with  the  most 
widely  different  genre-painters  of  his  time,  but  of  his  being  so  often  erroneously 
spoken  of  as  their  imitator.  The  same  masterly  characteristics,  however,  are 
found  in  all  his  works;  all  are  inspired  by  the  truest  feeling;  all  are  permeated 
with  a spirit  of  the  most  perfect  serenity.  His  personages  in  the  lower  walks 
of  life  are  as  happy  in  their  work  as  when  participating  in  the  pleasures  of  the 
table  or  the  joys  of  love;  his  scenes  in  the  upper  circles  of  society  portray  all 
the  charm  of  aristocratic  elegance,  without  any  of  the  chilling  breath  of  the 
great  world;  his  pictures  of  family  life  reveal  with  the  most  delicate  touches  an 
existence  both  exclusive  and  full  of  contentment;  and  in  his  representations 
of  active  life  he  portrays  either  the  utmost  good  humor,  or,  if  he  suggests  the 
tragic  side  of  life,  the  tenderest  feeling,  and  yet  wholly  free  from  sentimentality. 

His  manner  of  treating  a subject,  and  his  execution  as  well,  are  entirely 
in  keeping  with  his  conception.  As  a draftsman  he  is  the  most  accomplished 
of  the  Dutch  genre-painters;  his  composition  is  for  the  most  part  refined  and 
even  classic  in  its  repose,  yet  it  is  always  unstudied.  Although  in  the  painting 
of  details  he  rivals  Gerard  Dou  in  finish,  his  brush-work  is  invariably  light  and 
free.  His  color  is  warm  and  true  to  life;  in  the  harmonious  combination  of 
local  tones  he  is  on  a level  with  Ter  Borch,  while  in  his  marvelous  chiaroscuro, 
in  which  he  so  skilfully  envelops  his  objects,  he  is  Ter  Borch’s  superior. — 
FROM  THE  GERMAN 

CHARLES  BLANC  ‘HISTOIRE  DES  PEINTRES’ 

The  manners  and  customs  of  Holland,  as  well  as  her  material  aspect  in 
civil  life,  the  houses,  with  their  furniture  and  the  decoration  and  luxury 
of  their  rooms  — all  this  is  portrayed  in  Metsu’s  pictures  with  a charming  ex- 
actitude, which  is  all  the  more  pleasing  because  this  very  exactitude  seems  to 
be  quite  unstudied  on  the  painter’s  part.  After  a lapse  of  two  hundred  years 
his  work  serves  for  the  complete  restitution  of  a Dutch  bourgeois  home  of  the 
seventeenth  century  under  conditions  necessitated  by  the  climate  of  the  coun- 
try, the  character  of  its  inhabitants,  and  the  historic  environment  in  which  the 
Dutch  merchants  of  that  day,  lords  of  the  commerce  of  the  world,  passed  their 
lives.  . . . 

How  pleasant  it  is  to  be  admitted,  thanks  to  the  brush  of  a painter  like 
Metsu,  to  the  very  sanctum  sanctorum  of  those  houses,  where  in  reality  it  is  so 
difficult  for  a stranger  to  penetrate!  Generally  speaking,  it  is  through  a win- 
dow forming  the  frame  of  his  picture  that  Metsu  gives  us  the  entree  into  the 
boudoir  of  some  fashionable  woman,  sometimes  surprising  her  in  velvet 
dressing-sacque  as  she  is  v/riting  her  love-letters,  sometimes  as  she  is  putting 
the  finishing  touches  to  her  toilet  in  view  of  a hoped-for  visit,  or  again,  as  she 
gives  expression  through  the  tones  of  her  harpsichord  to  her  pent-up  emotions 
— to  thoughts  which  cannot  be  put  into  words.  . . . 

The  shades  of  expression  are  so  delicately  portrayed  in  Metsu’s  works  that 
often  we  do  not  grasp  their  full  meaning  at  the  first  glance.  The  faces  of  his 
[239] 


30 


MASTERS  IN  ART 


Dutch  ladies  are  so  hopelessly  calm  — they  are  so  placid,  so  phlegmatic.  It  is 
all  one  can  do  to  detect  in  them  a dawning  smile  or  trace  some  fleeting  thought. 
And  yet,  if  we  examine  them  closely  we  shall  see  that  there  is  not  a single  one 
of  those  faces  which,  even  when  perfectly  calm,  does  not  possess  a certain  play 
of  feature.  The  placidity  of  these  fair  young  girls  does  not  indicate  indiffer- 
ence or  ennui,  but  a serenity  of  soul  and  a delightful  sense  of  repose.  And 
therefore  it  is  but  natural  that  upon  this  underlying  impassibility  the  least 
emotion  should  leave  its  mark,  that  the  slightest  transition  of  thought,  in  order 
to  become  apparent  to  a discerning  observer,  needs  but  an  almost  impercep- 
tible movement  of  the  mouth  or  variation  of  the  expression.  . . . 

Metsu  was  not  one  of  those  Dutch  painters  who  load  their  compositions  with 
countless  and  meaningless  details,  making  a picture  of  the  social  life  of  the  day 
simply  a pretext  for  a ridiculous  display  of  furniture  and  bric-a-brac  of  every 
description,  so  that  the  interiors  they  paint  resemble  bazaars.  On  the  con- 
trary, like  the  man  of  intelligence  and  delicate  perceptive  faculties  that  he  was, 
he  introduced  only  such  accessories  as  were  needful  for  the  understanding  of 
the  story,  or  only  such  as  were  of  a nature  to  explain  the  conversation  that  is 
supposed  to  be  taking  place.  However  gifted  he  may  be  in  rendering  still-life, 
he  never  allows  himself  to  be  carried  away,  as  are  so  many,  by  the  mere  pleas- 
ure of  painting  it;  but  then,  to  make  up  for  this,  what  finish!  What  delicacy 
of  touch!  How  lovingly  he  gives  the  full  value  to  the  beautiful  local  colors, 
blending  the  hues  of  a Turkish  carpet  or  tinging  with  subdued  lights  the  gold 
and  silver  vases!  How  he  delights  in  the  Bohemian  glasses  and  in  the  tones  of 
the  transparent  wines  which  half  fill  them!  Glasses  play  an  important  role  in 
Dutch  art,  for  much  of  the  life  of  a retired  merchant  of  Holland  of  that  day 
was  passed  in  drinking  and  smoking;  in  Metsu’s  work,  however,  we  never  find 
those  enormous  glasses  which  Ostade’s  peasants  always  hold  in  their  hands, 
but  instead,  glasses  which  are  refined  and  delicate,  long  and  slender,  and  ele- 
gant in  form,  glasses  in  which  the  beer  of  Haarlem  foams  and  sparkles.  . . . 

Another  and  rather  curious  detail  that  is  found  in  most  of  Metsu’s  pictures 
is  the  chimney-piece  of  a form  customary  m his  day.  As  a rule  the  style  is 
Corinthian  or  else  a composite  kind  of  architecture.  The  entablature  rests 
upon  columns  of  costly  marble,  sea-green  in  color,  or  golden  yellow,  or  a 
veined  red;  sometimes  the  shaft  is  of  black  marble  and  the  capitol  of  white. 
It  is  not  unusual  for  these  columns  to  be  replaced  by  caryatids,  sometimes  rep- 
resenting women  with  fishes’tails, sometimes  satyrs  carved  like  garden  termini; 
or,  again,  the  cornice  may  be  surmounted  by  a frieze  ornamented  with  bas- 
reliefs  in  the  antique  fashion.  These  great  chimney-pieces  with  their  mantels 
must  have  just  suited  the  Dutch  people,  who  above  and  beyond  all  else  led  a 
family  life,  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  utmost  care  should  have  been  ex- 
pended upon  the  decoration  of  the  domestic  hearth,  that  natural  confidant  of 
the  secrets  of  intimate  life,  around  which  the  most  prolific  families  could  still 
be  accommodated. 

These  small  Dutch  dwellings,  where  the  hangings  smother  all  sound  of  the 
outside  world  and  where  the  light  of  day  is  softened  and  subdued  by  curtains, 
seem  made  expressly  for  lovers’  confidences.  In  Metsu’s  pictures  love’s  pres- 
[ 240] 


M E T S U 


31 


ence  is  sometimes  betrayed  by  a simple  play  of  glances,  and  the  artist  makes 
his  intention  clear  to  us  by  the  care  he  takes  to  always  portray  conversations 
between  two,  and  two  only.  If  there  is  ever  a third  party  present  it  is  sure  to 
be  some  insignificant  personage — a maid,  perhaps,  or  a little  page  in  livery, 
bearing  a glass  on  a tray,  who  as  he  withdraws  casts  a glance  from  the  corner 
of  his  eye  toward  the  young  visitor  about  to  be  left  tete-a-tete  with  his  mistress. 
Very  often  music  serves  as  an  excuse,  or,  if  you  will,  a prologue  to  the  timid 
declaration  of  a cavalier,  who,  as  he  leans  on  the  back  of  the  chair  in  which  is 
seated  his  lady-love  tuning  her  guitar,  hints  at  the  desire  of  his  heart,  or  dis- 
creetly murmurs  his  love  in  a language  as  unwieldy  as  his  broad  collar  and  as 
stiff  as  his  carriage.  . . . 

Surely  nothing  could  be  more  charming  than  Metsu’s  compositions,  unless 
it  be  the  brush  to  which  they  owe  their  existence.  One  curious  fact  should  be 
noted,  that  there  are  very  few  of  his  pictures  in  which  a certain  interesting  fig- 
ure— one  that  is  well-nigh  essential  in  the  works  of  painters  of  conversation 
pieces — is  not  introduced.  I refer  to  the  pet  dog,  to  that  spaniel  with  beautiful 
silky  coat  spotted  with  black  or  tan,  which  adds  to  the  significance  of  the  scene 
by  his  knowing  attitude.  Metsu  never  fails  to  make  use  of  one  of  these  little 
creatures  to  emphasize  his  meaning  and  give  an  additional  point  to  the  picture. 
The  behavior  of  the  dog  accentuates  the  actions  of  the  personages  concerned 
and  reveals  to  us  what  they  leave  unsaid.  . . . 

It  has  often  been  stated  that  Metsu’s  works  are  of  the  same  order  as  those 
of  Gerard  Dou,  of  Ter  Borch,  and  of  Van  Mieris.  If  by  this  it  is  meant  that 
like  these  painters  he  chose  for  his  subjects  scenes  from  every-day  life,  the 
statement  is  true,  or  rather  it  is  only  partly  true,  for  it  must  be  admitted  that 
Metsu’s  choice  of  subject  was  more  elevated,  more  intellectual,  than  Don’s, 
and  that  his  models  have  an  even  greater  air  of  distinction  than  Ter  Borch’s 
or  Van  Mieris’.  . . . 

If  now  they  should  be  compared  on  the  ground  of  technique  no  resemblance 
could  be  found.  So  far,  indeed,  from  there  being  any  similarity  between  the 
touch  of  Van  Mieris  or  of  Gerard  Dou,  and  that  of  Metsu,  they  are  almost 
diametrically  opposed.  All  three,  it  is  true,  carry  their  work  to  a high  degree 
of  finish,  but  how  superior  is  Metsu!  Van  Mieris  is  careful  in  his  brushwork, 
smooth  and  labored;  Metsu  is  facile,  free,  broad,  and  as  bold  as  the  dimen- 
sions of  his  pictures  admit.  Van  Mieris’  finish  is  like  enamel;  Metsu’s  touch 
lifts  him  to  a level  with  Van  Dyck;  it  is  the  grand  style  on  a small  scale. 
Gerard  Don’s  painstaking  workmanship  deteriorates  into  minuteness,  but 
Metsu’s  style  is  exquisite  without  being  cold;  his  touch  is  a loving  one,  but 
never  lacking  in  force  and  piquancy.  ...  It  is  even  more  difficult  to  trace 
any  parallel  between  Ter  Borch  and  Metsu  in  regard  to  their  manner  of  paint- 
ing. Ter  Borch’s  brush-work  is  soft  and  mellow;  when  he  reaches  an  out- 
line or  the  edge  of  the  light  he  never  comes  to  an  abrupt  stop,  even  in  the 
rendering  of  his  satin  stuffs,  where  the  transition  from  light  to  shade  is  in 
reality  sometimes  so  marked  that  folds  look  almost  like  breaks.  Metsu,  on 
the  other  hand,  readily  attacks  his  outlines;  he  gives  each  object  its  own  defi- 
nite place,  handles  his  lights  more  forcibly,  and  models  in  planes.  Ter  Borch’s 
[241] 


32 


MASTERS  IN  ART 


tendency  is  to  make  things  round;  Metsu  paints  more  squarely.  If,  in  order  to 
define  more  clearly  the  qualities  of  these  two  almost  equally  great  masters,  I 
might  be  allowed  to  describe  their  characteristics  hya  statement  of  what  those 
characteristics  would  be  if  carried  to  excess,  that  is,  if  they  were  exaggerated 
to  a fault,  I should  say  that  an  exaggeration  of  Ter  Borch’s  manner  would  be 
buttery  and  heavy,  while  a caricature  of  Metsu’s  style  would  lead  to  a spotty 
touch,  to  that  kind  of  patchwork  which  is  found  in  some  of  the  works  of 
Greuze.  . . . 

Gabriel  Metsu  is  one  of  those  painters  who  have  won  great  names  for  them- 
selves but  about  whom  little  is  known.  Happy  the  artist  whose  story  is  written 
in  his  works  alone!  Metsu’s  priceless  pictures,  true  memoirs  of  his  life,  tell  us 
of  the  man  himself  only  what  he  has  wished  us  to  know — in  a word,  his 
loftiest  feelings,  the  flower  of  his  thought.  ...  It  is  hardly  possible  to  think 
of  him  or  to  hear  him  spoken  of  without  picturing  him  like  the  heroes  of  his 
exquisite  little  paintings  — a cavalier,  courteous  and  gracious,  presenting  him- 
self in  a lady’s  boudoir  with  a graceful  bow,  or  addressing  in  low  tones  some 
fair  dame  whose  fingers  lightly  touch  the  keys  of  her  harpsichord. — abridged 
FROM  THE  FRENCH 

JOHN  C.  VAN  DYKE  ‘OLD  DUTCH  AND  FLEMISH  MASTERS’ 

Ter  BORCH  led  the  wayin  the  fashionable  upper-class  genre, and  Metsu, 
with  something  of  Ter  Borch’s  elevated  spirit,  adopted  the  same  subject, 
though  he  occasionally  went  off  to  paint  common  folk  and  market  pieces  like 
the  rest  of  the  Dutchmen.  His  liking,  however,  was  for  the  handsome  interior 
with  rich  furnishings  and  courtly  people.  These  he  painted  with  a delicate 
sensibility  of  what  was  true  refinement,  as  opposed  to  the  tawdry  flash  ele- 
gance of  the  painters  who  came  after  him.  An  aristocratic  bearing,  a well-bred 
manner  about  his  people,  are  slight  reminders  of  the  art  of  Van  Dyck,  though  it 
is  not  known  that  Metsu  was  ever  influenced  by  the  Fleming.  It  was  probably 
his  natural  inclination  of  mind,  for  we  feel  the  same  refinement  not  only  in  his 
subjects,  but  in  his  manner  of  handling  them. 

In  composition  he  had  not  Ter  Borch’s  simplicity.  He  could  not  see  truths 
so  plainly,  nor  tell  them  so  easily;  and  he  was  not  so  successful  in  making  a 
picture  out  of  a chair,  a table,  and  a figure  as  Ter  Borch.  He  was  more  elab- 
orate in  every  way,  without  wearying  one  by  catching  at  many  details.  His 
costume  was  more  fanciful,  his  still-life  more  frequent,  his  furnishings — rugs, 
curtains,  windows,  pictures  on  the  wall — were  more  ornate.  But  there  was 
moderation  in  all  this,  and  the  picture  was  never  loaded  with  more  material 
than  it  could  gra?cefully  carry.  In  its  arrangement  he  was  fond  of  symmetry, 
and  was,  at  times,  a little  formal  in  his  repetitions  of  objects.  . . . 

In  drawing,  Metsu  was  thoroughly  trained,  and  knew  how  to  give  the  use 
and  meaning  of  such  a thing  as  a hand  as  positively  as  any  of  his  contempo- 
raries. He  was  particularly  strong  in  his  characterization  by  movements,  ac- 
tions, gestures — something  he  may  have  gotten  from  Rembrandt,  though  he 
applied  it  in  his  own  way  to  his  own  people.  The  inclinations  of  the  heads  in 
the  picture  ‘An  Officer  and  a Young  Lady’  [see  plate  l]  are  expressive  to  the 
[242] 


M ETSU 


33 


last  degree.  The  attitude  of  the  officer,  the  bend  forward  of  the  figure,  the  pose 
of  the  legs,  the  hand  holding  the  hat,  all  have  direct  meanings.  And  then  look 
at  the  shy  interest  of  the  boy!  How  characteristic  the  turn  of  the  head,  the 
movement  of  the  figure!  In  light  Metsu  followed  Rembrandt’s  method  at  a 
distance,  illuminating  by  spots  here  and  there,  but  not  sacrificing  the  inter- 
mediate notes  of  color  as  did  Rembrandt.  He  was  a stickler  for  values  (though 
he  never  heard  the  word),  and  could  give  the  exact  light  or  dark  of  a tone  with 
as  much  accuracy  as  Ter  Borch.  The  enveloppe — the  atmospheric  setting  of  a 
picture — he  studied  out  with  rare  knowledge,  and  he  was  seldom,  if  ever, 
faulty  in  giving  the  truth  of  aerial  perspective.  His  color  was  made  up  of 
broken  tones  delicately  blended,  with  the  same  silvery  quality  to  be  seen  in 
Ter  Borch’s  work,  though  he  was  not  so  harmonious  or  deep  in  quality  as  the 
man  he  followed.  . . . 

Metsu  hardly  belongs  among  the  leaders  of  Dutch  painters,  and  yet  it 
would  be  unjust  to  say  that  he  was  a second-rate  man.  He  was  too  good  a 
painter  to  be  classed  among  the  miscellaneous  followers  of  a popular  move- 
ment. He  was  not,  however,  marked  by  any  distinguishing  excellence  that 
would  place  him  on  a plane  with  men  like  Ter  Borch.  He  was  in  Holland 
much  like  Lorenzo  Lotto  in  Venice — not  a painter  of  the  highest  rank,  but 
one  of  charm,  and  one  whose  works  are  entitled  to  much  consideration  and 
respect  for  their  sensitive  individuality. 

SIR  JOSEPH  A.  CROWE  ‘ E N C Y C L O P i?;  D 1 A BRITANNICA’ 

WHAT  Metsu  undertook  and  carried  out  from  the  first  with  surprising 
success  was  the  low  life  of  the  market  and  tavern,  contrasted  with  won- 
derful versatility  by  incidents  of  high  life  and  the  drawing-room.  In  each  of 
these  spheres  he  combined  humor  with  expression,  a keen  appreciation  of  na- 
ture with  feeling,and  breadth  with  delicacy  of  touch,  unsurpassed  by  any  of  his 
contemporaries.  In  no  single  instance  do  the  lessons  of  Rembrandt  appear  to 
have  been  lost  upon  him.  ...  A group  in  a drawing-room,  a series  of  groups 
in  the  market-place,  a single  figure  in  the  gloom  of  a tavern  or  parlor,  was 
treated  with  the  utmost  felicity  by  fit  concentration  and  gradation  of  light;  a 
warm  flush  of  tone  pervaded  every  part,  and,  with  that,  the  study  of  texture  in 
stuffs  was  carried  as  far  as  it  had  been  by  Ter  Borch  or  Dou,  if  not  with  the 
finish  and  brio  of  De  Hooch. 

Metsu’s  pictures  are  all  in  such  admirable  keeping,  and  so  warm  and  har- 
monious in  his  middle,  or  so  cool  and  harmonious  in  his  closing,  time,  that  they 
always  make  a pleasing  impression.  They  are  more  subtle  in  modulation  than 
Don’s,  more  spirited  and  forcible  in  touch  than  Ter  Borch’s,  and  if  Ter  Borch 
may  of  right  claim  to  have  first  painted  the  true  satin  robe,  he  never  painted 
it  more  softly  or  with  more  judgment  as  to  color  than  Metsu. 

FREDERICK  WEDMORE  ‘THE  MASTERS  OF  G E N R E - P A I N T I N G ’ 

AT  first  sight,  or  at  a slight  acquaintance,  Metsu’s  work  is  not  easily  sep- 
arated  from  Ter  Borch’s,  and  in  genre-painting,  and  especially  in  the 
painting  of  home  scenes,  the  difference  between  the  two  masters  is  never,  even 

[243  ] 


34 


MASTERS  IN  ART 


at  the  last,  a very  wide  one.  But  the  observer  does  not  take  long  to  see  that  the 
touch  and  execution  of  the  one  are  not  often  those  of  the  other — that  Metsu 
reached  habitually  a facility  and  freedom  which  were  Ter  Borch’s  only  now 
and  again.  And  the  observer  whose  vision  is  not  confined  to  variations  or  like- 
nesses of  handling  and  technical  treatment  perceives  that  Metsu’s  world,  if 
sometimes  less  exalted,  was  at  least  a larger  world  than  that  of  his  early  rival. 
In  profound  and  equal  comprehension  of  that  larger  world,  Metsu  himself 
came  to  be  distanced  by  Jan  Steen,  the  most  brilliant  humorist,  the  most  biting 
satirist,  the  shrewdest  and  yet  most  genial  chronicler  of  the  unveiled  moments 
of  men.  But  while  the  dramatic  sympathies  of  Ter  Borch  were  true,  those  of 
Metsu  were  already  more  than  true — they  were  wide.  It  is  plain  indeed  that 
Metsu’s  imagination  had  no  grasp  of  the  sacred  themes  with  which  he  was 
pleased  now  and  then  to  occupy  himself.  But  he  was  not  at  fault  when,  like 
Ter  Borch,  he  painted  the  good  society  of  Holland,  nor  was  he  at  fault  when 
he  went  into  the  market-place  and  caught  such  humors  of  the  crowd  as  the 
lower  painters  reveled  in.  Meeting  Ter  Borch  on  the  common  ground  of  home 
scenes  of  gentle  life,  Metsu  but  rarely  followed  him  in  the  practice  of  por- 
traiture; but  he  passed  beyond  Ter  Borch  by  the  wider  range  which  he  gave  to 
his  comedy  of  the  interior;  he  ventured,  here  and  there,  on  suggestions  which 
the  more  courtly  and  exalted  artist  discreetly  suppressed.  And  in  the  hearti- 
ness with  which,  at  need,  he  depicted  the  pleasures  of  rustic  and  boor  Metsu 
allied  himself  with  artists  with  whom  the  mass  of  his  work  would  never  prompt 
us  to  associate  him. 

Moreover,  there  was  connected  with  his  freedom  and  facility  of  touch,  the 
possession  by  Metsu,  in  larger  measure  than  any  of  his  brethren,  of  a skill  in- 
valuable to  the  genre-painter.  He  had  at  his  command  the  full  control  of  a 
source  of  expression  which  he  was  among  the  very  first  to  comprehend.  He 
was  the  master  of  the  gesture  of  the  hand.  He  had  studied  a thousand  of  its 
actions,  and  he  distinguished  each  one  of  them  from  all  the  others.  But  of 
course  there  cannot  be  claimed  for  Metsu,  even  in  this  matter  of  fine  and  del- 
icate control  of  the  hand’s  movements,  a virtue  which  his  comrades  did  not 
share.  Without  some  measure  of  it  much  of  the  charm  of  Dutch  genre-painting 
would  be  gone.  To  possess  it,  in  some  measure,  is  a note  of  the  school.  Ter 
Borch  and  Jan  Steen  had  it  richly,  but  it  was  preeminently  Metsu’s.  There  is 
hardly  a picture  of  his  in  which  the  possession  of  it  is  not  indicated  in  a touch 
decisive  and  certain,  and  in  which  it  does  not  give  strength  and  delicate  reality 
to  the  idea  of  the  absorbed  occupation.  Here  perhaps  the  fingers  are  tuning  a 
violin,  as  in  ‘The  Duet’  of  the  National  Gallery — the  very  eyes  almost  closed, 
the  better  to  listen  to  the  daintiest  differences  of  sound;  the  senses  shrunk  and 
concentrated, as  it  were,  upon  those  two  only,  of  exquisite  hearing  and  exquisite 
touch,  the  head  and  hand  of  the  musician,  marvels  of  accurate  and  sensitive 
gesture.  Or  there,  as  in  ‘The  Music  Lesson,’  the  fingers  are  falling,  light  and 
soft,  in  due  succession,  upon  the  keys  of  the  spinet;  or  they  are  holding  the 
drinking-glass  by  the  bottom  with  small  firm  localized  pressure,  as  in  the  pic- 
ture at  the  Louvre. 

The  variety  of  Metsu  is  seen  in  Paris;  his  perfection,  even  better  in  London. 

[244] 


M ET  S U 


35 


In  Paris,  at  the  Louvre,  there  is  his  greatest  outdoor  scene  of  humble  life,  ‘ The 
Vegetable  Market  at  Amsterdam’;  there  is  there  the  sacred  piece  in  which  he 
has  failed — the  piece  that  one  wonders  he  ever  painted  — and  there  is  there, 
too,  one  of  his  happiest  and  most  expressive  interiors, — the  picture  of  the  lady 
and  the  officer.  . . . ‘The  Vegetable  Market’  is  in  subject  an  exception  in 
Gabriel  Metsu’s  work.  With  its  free  artistic  rendering  of  tent  and  tree  in- 
stead of  curtain  and  wall,  with  its  vivid  touches  of  the  bargain-making  nature, 
with  its  laughter  of  boorish  lovers  at  their  roughish  horse-play,  it  has  no  claim 
to  be  typical.  It  is  on  the  very  end  and  edge  of  the  domain  of  Metsu.  We  see 
him  more  nobly  and  more  truly  in  London,  in  either  of  the  exquisite  examples 
of  his  work  in  the  National  Gallery,  and  in  the  one  masterpiece  of  his,  so 
wholly  admirable  and  wholly  faultless,  which  is  in  the  possession  of  the  Crown 
[see  plate  iii].  To  know  these  three,  and  to  know  them  intimately,  is  to  have 
drawn  from  Metsu  the  pleasure  he  is  capable  of  giving;  so  full  are  they,  in 
their  due  degree,  of  his  most  delicate  conception,  and  of  his  most  expressive 
design,  and  of  the  richest  and  the  most  harmonious  of  his  hues. 

SIR  WALTER  ARMSTRONG  ‘THE  PORTFOLIO’  1904 

Gabriel  metsu,  the  most  consummate  of  all  the  Dutchmen,  the  man 
in  whom  the  greatest  number  of  subtle  beauties  met  and  mingled  in  the 
most  delicate  proportions,  is  one  of  those  rare  artists  in  whom  a sense  of  form 
is  an  imperious  instinct.  His  pictures  vary  ingeniously  in  general  aspect,  for 
he  never  became  stereotyped.  His  execution  progressed  steadily  from  the  be- 
ginning to  the  end,  from  the  somewhat  metallic  tightness  of  his  early  years  to 
the  unrivaled  combination  of  breadth  with  subtlety,  of  manipulative  with 
creative  elements,  which  marks  his  final  style.  But  his  manifest  delight  in  ex- 
ecution did  not  make  him  forget  design.  From  first  to  last  his  pictures  are 
organic  things.  One  line  implies  another;  one  mass  answers  to  another.  There 
is  a pervading  rhythm  to  be  enjoyed  in  tbeir  depth  as  well  as  their  superficies. 

Sir  Frederic  Burton  says  of  him : “His  compositions  are  faultless  in  arrange- 
ment and  in  balance  of  parts.  In  respect  of  chiaroscuro,  if  that  term  be  ap- 
plied, as  it  often  is  with  us,  not  merely  to  the  arrangement  of  light,  shadow  and 
reflex,  but  to  that  of  lights  and  darks  generally  in  their  mutual  relations  and 
values  as  local  colors,  Metsu  was  a master  of  the  first  order.”  . . . 

He  was  excelled  in  this  or  that  direction  by  others.  He  could  not  paint  light 
with  De  Hooch  or  Vermeer,  or  movement  with  Jan  Steen;  his  sense  of  life  was 
less  vivid  than  Vermeer’s,  of  refinement  less  complete  than  Ter  Borch’s.  But 
putting  all  these  qualities  together  and  supplementing  them  with  the  further 
test  which  lies  in  unity,  he  was  equal  to  the  best;  while  in  the  fine  and  rare 
quality  of  an  expressive  but  strictly  controlled  handling  he  was  the  master  of 
them  all.  . . . 

Art,  they  say,  is  nature  seen  through  a temperament.  Well,  with  Vermeer 
and  De  Hooch  the  temperament  seems  absolutely  transparent.  The  nature 
seen  through  it  is  as  vivid  and  brilliant  as  the  real  thing;  the  temperament 
works  only  to  arrange  and  marshal,  not  to  modify  or  depress.  With  Metsu  it 
is  not  so.  He  does  not  venture  to  look  the  sun  quite  in  the  face.  As  he  re- 
[ 245] 


36 


MASTERS  IN  ART 


creates  nature  for  our  pleasure,  he  watches  her  through  a smoked  glass, 
through  a temperament  which  prepares  for  unity  by  control.  But  if  he  never 
rises  to  the  height  touched  now  and  then  by  the  two  great  masters  of  Delft,  he 
seldom  sinks  below  his  own  level,  so  that  of  all  the  artists  of  Holland  — never 
failing,  of  course,  to  exclude  Rembrandt — he  is  the  most  consistently  himself. 


%\)t  of  iHetsJu 

DESCRIPTIONS  OF  THE  PLATES 

‘AN  OFFICER  AND  A YOUNG  LADY’  PLATE  I 

This  celebrated  picture  in  the  Louvre  is  full  of  Metsu’s  most  delicate  qual- 
ities. It  is,  indeed,  one  of  his  best  renderings  of  those  little  “conversation 
pictures”  in  which  he  excelled.  In  Smith’s  ‘Catalogue  Raisonne’  it  is  called 
‘The  Morning  Visit;’  Charles  Blanc  suggests  ‘The  Gallant  Officer’  as  a more 
suitable  title  than  the  one  under  which  it  is  listed  in  the  official  catalogue  of  the 
Louvre — ‘Un  militaire  recevant  une  jeune  dame.’  “So  far  from  being  the 
host,”  writes  Blanc,  “the  officer  seems  to  me  to  be  the  visitor.  Upon  entering 
the  room  he  has  placed  his  cane  and  fur  gloves  on  a chair  covered  with  blue 
velvet,  but  still  holds  his  plumed  hat  in  one  hand,  having  just  bowed  low  to 
his  hostess,  who,  about  to  drink  a glass  of  liqueur,  apparently  invites  him  to 
do  the  same.  A spaniel,  ears  pricked  up  and  nose  thrust  forward,  sniffs  at  the 
officer,  on  whom  the  little  page  (in  blue  dress),  bearing  a lemon  on  a silver 
tray,  also  casts  a scrutinizing  glance.  The  officer,  with  his  great  top-boots 
and  costume  of  the  time  of  Louis  xiii.,  wears  over  his  cuirass  a shoulder-belt 
richly  embossed  with  gold.  His  attire,  his  distinguished  bearing,  his  courteous 
and  deferential  attitude,  all  proclaim  him  to  be  a gentleman.  As  to  its  tech- 
nical qualities,  this  painting  may  be  said  to  be  the  last  word  in  art.  The 
workmanship  is  as  delicate  as  the  conception;  the  colors  are  varied  and  bril- 
liant. The  lady  is  dressed  in  black  velvet  and  white  satin,  the  officer’s  em- 
broidered trappings  and  the  rich  Eastern  table-cover  present  a striking 
scheme  of  color,  but  all  is  harmonized  by  a glazing,  beautiful  and  transparent. 
A golden  tone  envelops  and  warms  the  whole  picture — truly  one  of  the 
gems  of  the  Dutch  school  of  the  seventeenth  century.” 

“The  composition,”  writes  Mr.  Timothy  Cole,  “is  quite  faultless  in  the  ar- 
rangement and  balance  of  its  parts.  To  consider  well  the  disposition  of  the 
several  objects  in  their  relation  to  one  another  is  an  instructive  study.  There  is 
nothing  superfluous  or  wanting,  and  everything  is  adjusted  with  the  nicest 
taste  and  judgment.  Notice,  for  instance,  how  the  glove  upon  the  floor  and 
the  walking-stick  above  it  offset  the  dog  upon  the  opposite  side.  In  the  lighting 
of  the  figure  of  the  woman,  how  the  strong  juxtaposition  of  the  white  kerchief 
about  the  head  and  shoulders  with  the  black  velvet  bodice  of  the  dress  makes 
the  background  swim!  Unfortunately  the  picture  has  been  dimmed  a little  by 
[24f.] 


M ETSU 


37 


time,  though  the  beauty  and  refinement  of  its  coloring  and  the  delicacy  of  its 
workmanship  are  still  a delight.” 

The  panel  measures  two  feet  two  inches  high  by  one  foot  and  a half  wide. 

‘THE  LETTER-WRITER’  PLATE  II 

There  is  but  one  opinion  in  regard  to  this  picture,  which  all  unite  in 
praising  as  one  of  Metsu’s  most  beautiful  works.  Sir  Walter  Armstrong 
says  of  it:  “‘The  Letter-writer’  shows  all  Metsu’s  artistry  at  its  best.  The  de- 
sign is  perfect.  It  begins  by  founding  itself  on  the  probabilities,  so  that  un- 
tutored eyes  may  easily  suppose  veracity  to  be  its  only  aim.  There  is  a touch 
more  of  eloquence  in  the  pose  than  the  act  of  writing  leads  to,  otherwise  the 
rare  art  of  concealing  the  most  elaborate  art  cannot  show  a more  consummate 
achievement.” 

The  young  man  seated  at  a table  covered  with  a rich  Turkish  cloth  is 
dressed  in  black.  A silver  inkstand  and  wafer-stamp  are  on  the  table;  a pic- 
ture of  cattle  in  a carved  frame  hangs  against  the  light  wall;  the  flooring  is  of 
black  and  white  marble.  The  room  is  brightly  lighted  by  tbe  open  casement 
window.  It  has  been  said,  but  with  what  degree  of  truth  cannot  be  asserted, 
that  Metsu  has  here  given  us  a portrait  of  Paul  Potter,  and  that  the  cattle  pic- 
ture on  the  wall  was  introduced  out  of  compliment  to  the  great  painter  of  such 
subjects. 

This  little  picture  was  formerly  in  the  Hope  Collection  at  Deepdene,  Eng- 
land, but  is  now  the  property  of  Mr.  Alfred  Beit,  London.  It  measures  one 
foot  nine  and  a half  inches  high  by  one  foot  four  and  a half  inches  wide. 

‘THE  VIOLONCELLO  PLAYER’  PLATE  III 

IN  this  picture,”  writes  Frederick  Wedmore,  “Metsu  takes  us  to  a shad- 
owed room  into  which  there  descend  the  few  steps  of  a richly  banistered 
staircase  leading  straight  from  a corridor,  which,  by  means  of  arches  at  the 
side,  communicates  with  the  room  itself  and  serves  as  a gallery  for  it.  The 
architectural  lines  here,  as  often  in  the  better  Dutch  dwellings,  are  with  their 
dignity  just  sufficiently  intricate  to  engage  the  eye  curiously  with  a sense  of  un- 
discovered space  and  some  agreeable  outlet  guessed  at  beyond,  the  effect  still 
being  simple  and  the  space  not  too  large  for  coziness  and  quietude.  Near  the 
foot  of  the  stairs,  at  that  end  of  the  room,  and  in  a little  uncertain  shadow  cast 
by  gallery  or  steps,  sits,  in  front  of  the  now  silent  spinet,  a gentleman  playing 
on  the  violoncello.  Behind  and  above  him,  in  the  gallery,  or  corridor,  there 
leans  another  man  of  gentle  birth  and  breeding,  entranced  with  the  music;  and 
on  the  staircase — her  thought  of  the  music,  too,  arresting  her,  stopping  her 
action  half-way  down  on  the  descent  — stands  a lady  with  music-score  in  her 
hand.  A spaniel — the  favorite  and  petted  companion  — is  at  the  foot  of  the 
stair.  That  is  the  composition;  but  how  convey  the  sense  of  its  restful  unity  of 
sentiment,  its  charm  for  mind  and  eye  ? For  color,  there  is  the  red-stockinged 
musician  by  the  side  of  the  brown-red  instrument  he  plays  upon;  and  golden 
browns  of  many  shades  predominate,  cooled  a little  with  occasional  passages 
[ 247  ] 


38 


MASTERS  IN  ART 


of  gray,  and  harmonized  by  the  creamy  red  of  the  lady’s  hodice  and  the  yellow- 
white — almost  a candle-light  white  — of  her  satin  skirt,  so  beautiful  in  fold 
and  sheen  and  glow.” 

The  picture  is  in  Buckingham  Palace,  London.  It  is  on  canvas  and  meas- 
ures two  feet  one  inch  high  by  a little  over  a foot  and  a half  wide. 

‘AN  OLD  WOMAN  SELLING  FISH’  PLATE  IV 

This  picture,  probably  a work  of  Metsu’s  middle  period,  represents  a sub- 
ject which  he  painted  many  times,  though  always  with  marked  variations. 
In  front  of  the  open  doorway  of  a humble  dwelling  is  seated  an  old  woman 
selling  fish.  The  artist  has  portrayed  her  at  the  moment  when  she  is  about  to 
receive  in  her  outstretched  hand  a piece  of  money  from  a young  girl  who  has 
purchased  a herring. 

The  composition  of  this  little  picture  is  beyond  praise;  it  is  simple,  well 
planned,  and  of  convincing  unity.  There  is  no  loading  of  unnecessary  details; 
the  few  accessories  introduced  — the  improvised  table  of  a board  supported 
by  a barrel  on  which  rests  the  shallow  pail  of  fish,  the  onions  lying  on  a white 
cloth,  and  the  vegetables  with  their  long  green  leaves  on  the  left  — all  con- 
tribute towards  the  completion  of  this  picture  of  humble  life. 

The  painting  measures  about  a foot  and  a half  high  by  one  foot  three  inches 
wide  and  is  now  in  the  Wallace  Collection,  Hertford  House,  London. 

‘THE  INTRUDER’  PLATE  V 

IN  the  catalogue  of  the  collection  of  pictures  belonging  to  the  Earl  of  North- 
brook, Mr.  W.  H.  James  Weale  describes  this  picture  as  follows:  “The  in- 
terior of  a bed-chamber  hung  with  gilt  leather  in  which  two  ladies  dressing  are 
surprised  by  a young  gentleman  whom  their  maid  is  trying  to  hold  back.  One 
of  the  ladies,  wearing  a green  velvet  jacket  embroidered  with  ermine,  is  sitting 
by  the  side  of  a table  to  the  left  with  a comb  in  her  hand,  laughing.  The  other 
(in  a white  satin  skirt  and  red  bodice)  stands  by  the  side  of  the  bed  from  which 
she  has  apparently  just  risen, and  looks  oflFended.  On  a chair  to  the  right  hangs 
an  embroidered  scarlet  cloak  trimmed  with  ermine.  On  the  left  is  a brown 
spaniel,  and  on  the  right,  on  the  ground,  a jug  and  a candlestick.” 

“This  picture,”  writes  Smith  in  his ‘ Catalogue  Raisonne,’ “ may  with  pro- 
priety be  styled  a chef-d’oeuvre  of  the  master.  The  beauty  of  the  composition, 
the  elegance  of  the  drawing,  the  delightful  effect  which  pervades  it,  together 
with  the  color  and  the  accomplished  execution,  fully  entitle  it  to  this  appella- 
tion.” Dr.  Waagen  is  equally  high  in  its  praise.  “The  animation  of  the  scene,” 
he  writes,  “the  sustained  execution,  the  delicacy  of  aerial  perspective,  and  the 
warm  and  transparent  coloring  show  it  to  be  one  of  Metsu’s  masterpieces  of 
his  best  middle  period.” 

The  picture,  which  is  signed  on  the  woodwork  of  the  bedstead,  is  painted 
on  an  oak  panel.  It  measures  two  feet  two  inches  high  by  nearly  two  feet  wide. 


[ 248] 


M ETSU 


39 


<THE  VEGETABLE  MARKET  AT  AMSTERDAM’  PLATE  VI 

I ''HE  Vegetable  Market  at  Amsterdam,’  “Metsu’s  greatest  outdoor  scene 

A of  humble  life,”  Mr.  Frederick  Wedmore  calls  it,  represents  a scene  on 
the  borders  of  one  of  the  canals  of  that  city.  Beneath  the  shade  of  a spreading 
tree  is  a group  of  peasants  engaged  in  buying  and  selling  their  goods.  At  the 
left,  a portly  woman  sitting  on  the  handle  of  a wheelbarrow  of  vegetables  in- 
dignantly refutes  the  angry  accusations  of  another  woman,  who,  with  arms 
akimbo,  is  “giving  her  a piece  of  her  mind.”  In  the  center  a young  man  in  red 
addresses  some  words  of  gallantry  to  a girl  dressed  in  yellow,  with  a white  ker- 
chief and  apron,  who  half  turns  to  listen  to  his  words  as  she  walks  along  with 
her  copper  pail  slung  over  her  arm.  An  additional  touch  of  animation  is  given 
to  the  scene  by  the  dog  barking  at  the  bright  plumaged  cock  perched  on  a 
wicker  cage.  Farther  back  other  men  and  women  are  seen  absorbed  in 
buying  and  selling,  and,  as  a background  to  this  picture  of  one  of  Holland’s 
characteristic  scenes,  is  the  quiet  canal  on  which  a clumsy  sailboat  slowly 
makes  its  way.  On  tbe  opposite  bank  is  a row  of  red  brick  houses. 

Notwithstanding  the  great  reputation  of  this  picture,  formerly  regarded  as 
the  artist’s  masterpiece,  and  so  spoken  of  in  bygone  handbooks,  it  cannot  be 
justly  ranked  as  one  of  his  finest  achievements;  many  of  his  less  ambitious 
works  exceed  it  in  delicacy  of  technique  and  restrained  and  expressive  hand- 
ling. It  is  one  of  Metsu’s  largest  compositions.  The  canvas  measures  a little 
more  than  three  feet  high  by  two  feet  eight  and  a half  inches  wide.  It  is  now 
in  the  Louvre,  Paris. 


‘PORTRAIT  OF  AN  OLD  WOMAN’  PLATE  VII 

This  picture  is  one  of  the  few  life-sized  portraits  which  Metsu  painted,  and 
is  said  to  be  a likeness  of  his  mother.  Formerly  in  the  Suermondt  Col- 
lection at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  it  is  now  in  the  Berlin  Gallery.  Woltmann  speaks 
in  high  praise  of  the  simplicity  of  its  treatment,  of  its  strong  coloring,  and  calls 
attention  to  the  fact  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  large  rendering  to  suggest  that 
the  artist  was  accustomed  to  working  on  a small  scale.  Waagen  says  that  in 
every  respect,  conception,  form,  and  color,  “it  is  as  masterly  as  if  portraits  of 
this  kind  had  been  tbe  artist’s  habitual  sphere.” 

The  background  is  dark,  the  dress  of  the  woman  black,  her  kerchief  is  white, 
and  beneath  her  black  hood,  enframing  her  strongly  marked  and  finely  modeled 
face,  is  a close-fitting  muslin  cap. 


‘AN  OLD  TOPER’  AND  ‘AN  OLD  WOMAN  READING’  PLATE  VIII 

These  two  pictures  in  the  Ryks  Museum,  Amsterdam,  are  very  charac- 
teristic examples  of  Metsu’s  art.  The  ‘Old  Toper’  (a  panel  measuring 
nine  inches  high  by  eight  inches  wide)  is  painted  with  great  care  and  admirable 
characterization.  “The  personage  represented,”  writes  Burger,  “has  long 
gray  hair  and  a short  gray  beard.  His  face  wears  a blissful  expression  as,  lean- 
ing his  arm  on  a cask  of  beer,  he  holds  his  pipe  in  one  hand  and  in  the  other  a 
[ 249] 


40 


MASTERS  IN  ART 


pewter  mug  which  he  rests  upon  his  knee.  ...  He  is  dressed  in  a warm  gray 
coat  and  a fine  red  cap  trimmed  with  brown  fur.  His  every  want  is  supplied; 
he  is  perfectly  content.  Above  the  barrel,  hanging  on  nails  against  the  wall, 
are  a stone  jug  and  a slate.  The  rest  of  the  background  is  of  a neutral  color — 
a delicate  harmony  of  pearl-gray.” 

The  other  picture  reproduced  in  plate  viii,  ‘An  Old  Woman  Reading,’  was 
acquired  by  the  Ryks  Museum,  Amsterdam,  in  l88o.  Dr.  Bredius  considers 
it  one  of  Metsu’s  most  remarkable  works — “the  masterpiece  among  his  pic- 
tures of  a single  figure.”  “With  what  consummate  art,”he  says, “the  head  and 
hands  of  this  old  woman,  probably  tbe  painter’s  mother,  are  modeled!  what 
truth  of  expression  in  the  venerable  face!  It  is  certainly  one  of  Metsu’s  last 
works;  one  of  those  in  which  Rembrandt’s  influence  is  most  apparent.” 

The  panel  measures  about  eleven  inches  high  by  eight  and  a half  inches 
wide. 

‘THE  DUET’  PLATE  IX 

IN  a simply  furnished  room  a lady  dressed  in  a scarlet  waist  and  dull  red  silk 
skirt  is  seated  at  a table  covered  with  a Turkish  cloth,  on  which  a bass  viol 
is  lying.  Sbe  holds  a sheet  of  music  in  her  hand,  apparently  in  readiness  to  ac- 
company with  her  voice  the  gentleman  who  stands  behind  the  table  tuning  his 
violin.  At  the  left  is  a window  hung  with  green  curtains,  and  at  the  lady’s  side 
is  a pet  spaniel  — an  accessory  rarely  lacking  in  Metsu’s  works.  The  pre- 
dominating hue  of  this  picture,  formerly  in  Sir  Robert  Peel’s  collection,  but 
now  in  the  National  Gallery,  London,  is  red  — red  in  varying  shades  — a color 
for  which  Metsu,  like  many  of  the  Dutchmen,  had  an  especial  fondness,  and 
which,  in  its  more  vivid  tones,  he  liked  to  surround  with  the  brownish  red  of 
furniture  or  the  dark  reds  of  thick  fabrics. 

“ Metsu’s  handling,”  writes  Sir  Walter  Armstrong,  “is  to  be  seen  at  its  best 
in  the  red  Peel  picture.  Here  we  find  surfaces  modeled,  textures  and  solidities 
indicated,  in  a broad,  decisive,  and  yet  subtle  touch  which  can  be  compared  to 
nothing  more  apt  than  the  march  of  the  sculptor’s  thumb  over  the  clay.” 
‘The  Duet’  measures  one  foot  five  inches  high  by  one  foot  three  inches  wide, 

‘THE  FAMILY  OF  THE  MERCHANT  GEELVINK’  PLATE  X 

IN  the  picture  here  reproduced  we  have  an  admirable  example  of  Metsu’s 
skill  in  portraiture.  The  handling  is  delicate,  the  scale  of  color  fine,  and  in 
the  painting  of  the  heads  there  is  great  refinement  and  individuality.  The 
apartment  into  which  we  are  introduced  is  stately,  its  rich  appointments  in- 
dicating that  its  proprietor  is  a man  of  means.  Such,  indeed,  is  the  appearance 
of  the  merchant  Geelvink,  as,  seated  on  the  left  dressed  in  a suit  of  black,  we 
see  him  surrounded  by  his  family.  On  the  right  is  his  wife,  attired  in  a peach- 
colored  gown,  holding  on  the  table  before  her  one  of  the  youngest  of  the  chil- 
dren, whom  she  is  amusing  with  a rattle.  Behind  this  group  stands  the 
nurse,  with  the  baby  in  her  arms;  and  in  front,  seated  on  the  floor,  is  the 
oldest  girl,  playing  with  a spaniel.  At  the  left  of  the  picture  another  child,  a 
[250] 


M E T S U 


41 


boy,  has  just  entered  through  an  open  door.  He  is  dressed  in  the  costume  of 
the  period,  and  holds  in  one  hand  his  broad-brimmed  hat  decked  with  feath- 
ers, while  on  the  forefinger  of  the  other  hand  is  perched  a gaily  plumed  par- 
rot. Near  him  on  the  floor  are  playing  a cat  and  a dog. 

The  painting  is  on  canvas  and  measures  nearly  two  and  a half  feet  high 
by  a little  more  than  that  in  width.  It  formerly  belonged  to  a member  of  the 
Tschiffeli  family  in  Berne,  Switzerland,  who  was  engaged  in  business  in  Hol- 
land and  married  tbe  eldest  of  the  merchant  Geelvink’s  daughters — the  one 
who  in  the  picture  is  represented  playing  with  a spaniel.  Removing  later  to 
Berne,  the  Tschiffelis  took  with  them  this  picture,  which  had  passed  into  the 
eldest  daughter’s  possession.  In  1832  it  was  acquired  by  the  Berlin  Gallery, 
where  it  now  hangs. 


A LIST  OF  THE  PRINCIPAL  PAINTINGS  BY  METSU 
WITH  THEIR  PRESENT  LOCATIONS 

AUSTRIA-HUNGARY.  Budapest  Gallery:  A Man  and  a Lady — Prague,  Ru- 
. dolphinum  : A Woman  selling  Fish — Vienna,  Imperial  Gallery:  The  Lace-maker 
— Vienna,  Czernin  Gallery:  A Smoker — BELGIUM.  Antwerp,  Kums  Museum: 
Metsu  and  his  Wife  — Brussels,  Museum:  The  Luncheon  Party  — Brussels,  Arenberg 
Palace:  The  Love-letter  — ENGLAND.  London,  National  Gallery:  The  Duet 
(Plate  ix);  The  Music  Lesson;  The  Drowsy  Landlady  — London,  Bridgewater  House, 
Collection  of  the  Earl  of  Ellesmere:  The  Fish-wife;  A Lady  caressing  her  Lap-dog; 
The  Stirrup-cup  — London,  Buckingham  Palace:  The  Violoncello  Player  (Plate  iii); 
Portrait  of  Metsu  (see  page  232);  A Lady  with  a Wine-glass  — London,  Collection  of 
Mr.  Alfred  Beit:  The  Letter-writer  (Plate  ii);  Reading  the  Letter  — London,  Earl 
OF  Northbrook’s  Collection:  The  Intruder  (Plate  v);  Portrait  of  Metsu;  A Child 
Asleep — -London,  Wallace  Collection:  The  Sleeping  Sportsman;  An  Old  Woman 
selling  Fish  (Plate  iv);  The  Letter-writer  Surprised;  An  Old  Woman  Asleep;  A Woman 
atherToilet  — FRANCE.  Montpellier,  Museum:  The  Writer;  Woman  selling  Fish 
— Paris,  Louvre:  The  Vegetable  Market  at  Amsterdam  (Plate  vi);  An  Officer  and  a 
Young  Lady  (Plate  i);  The  Music  Lesson;  The  Chemist;  A Dutch  Woman;  A Dutch 
Cook;  Portrait  of  Admiral  vanTromp;  The  Woman  taken  in  Adultery  — GERMANY. 
Berlin  Gallery:  Portrait  of  an  Old  Woman  (Plate  vii);  The  Family  of  the  Merchant 
Geelvink  (Plate  x);  The  Cook  — Brunswick  Gallery:  A Dutch  Woman  — Cassel  Gal- 
lery: The  Poultry  Seller;  A Young  Woman  giving  Alms;  A Young  Woman  playing  a 
Lute  — Dresden,  Royal  Gallery:  A Man  and  his  Wife  at  Breakfast;  A Poultry  Seller; 
An  Old  Woman  buying  Poultry;  The  Game  Seller  and  the  Cook;  A Man  Smoking;  The 
Lace-maker — Munich  Gallery:  A Cook  with  a Fowl;  Tw'elfth-night  — HOLLAND, 
Amsterdam,  Ryks  Museum:  The  Breakfast;  An  Old  Toper  (see  Plate  viii);  An  Old 
Woman  Reading  (see  Plate  viii);  The  Sportsman’s  Gift  — Amsterdam,  Six  Collection  : 
Woman  selling  Herrings  — The  Hague,  Gallery:  The  Hunter;  The  Ama'eur  Musi- 
cians; Justice  protecting  the  Widow  and  Orphan  — The  Hague,  Steengracht  Collec- 
tion: The  Sick  Child  — The  Hague,  Collection  of  M.  Victor  de  Stuers:  A Toper 
— Rotterdam,  Museum:  A Priest  in  his  Study — -ITALY.  Florence,  Uffizi  Gal- 
lery: A Lady  and  a Sportsman  — RUSSIA.  St.  Petersburg,  Hermitage  Gallery: 
The  Sick  Woman;  The  Concert;  The  Breakfast  of  Oysters;  The  Prodigal  Son;  The  Re- 
past— SPAIN.  Madrid,  The  Prado:  A Fowl  — SWEDEN.  Stockholm,  National 
Museum:  Scene  in  a Blacksmith’s  Shop;  The  Card-party  — UNITED  STATES.  Bos- 
ton, Museum  of  Fine  Arts:  The  Usurer  — New  York,  Metropolitan  Museum: 
The  Music  Lesson. 


[25  1] 


42 


MASTERS  IN  ART 


iWtfsu  3Stbliograp{))> 

A LIST  OF  THE  PRINCIPAL  BOOKS  DEALING  WITH  METSU 

^LEXANDRE,  A.  Histoire  populaire  de  la  peinture;  ecole  hollandaise.  Paris  [1894]  — 
Armstrong,  Sir  W.  The  Peel  Collection  and  the  Dutch  School  of  Painting  (in  The 
Portfolio).  London,  1904 — Blanc,  C.  Histoire  des  peintres  de  toutes  les  ecoles:  ecole 
hollandaise.  Paris,  1863 — Bode,  W.  Studien  zur  Geschichte  der  hollandischen  Malerei. 
Brunswick,  1883  — Bredius,  A.  Chefs-d'oeuvre  du  Musee  Royal  d’ Amsterdam.  Munich 
[1890] — Burger,  W.  Musees  de  la  Hollande.  Paris,  1 858-60  — Burger,  W.  Tresors 
d’art  exposes  a Manchester  en  1857.  Paris,  1 857  — Buxton,  J.  W.,  and  Poynter,  E.  J. 
German,  Flemisli,  and  Dutch  Painting.  London,  1881  — Crowe,  Sir.  J.  A.  Metsu  (in 
Encyclopaedia  Britannica).  Edinburgh,  1883 — Dafforne,  J.  Pictures  by  Great  Masters 
of  the  French,  Dutch,  and  Flemish  Schools.  London  [1873]  — Descamps,  J.  B.  Vie  des 
peintres  flamands  et  hollandais.  Marseilles,  1842-43 — Fromentin,E.  Les  Maitres  d’ au- 
trefois. Paris,  1877  — Gower,  Lord  R.  The  Figure  Painters  of  Holland.  London, 
1880  — Havard,  H.  The  Dutch  School  of  Painting:  Trans,  by  G.  Powell.  NewYork, 
1895  — Houbraken,  a.  De  groote  Schpubourg  der  Nederlandtsche  Konstschilders.  Am- 
sterdam, 1718  — - Immerzeel,  j.  De  levens  en  werken  der  hollandsche  en  vlaamische  Kunst- 
schilders.  Amsterdam,  1842 — Kramm,  C.  De  levens  en  werken  der  hollandsche  en  vlaam- 
ische Kunstschilders.  Amsterdam,  1856-63 — -Kugler,  F.  T.  Handbook  of  Painting; 
The  German,  Flemish,  and  Dutch  Schools.  Revised  by  J.  A.  Crowe.  London,  1874  — 
Larousse,  P.  A.  Metsu  (in  Grand  dictionnaire  universel).  Paris,  1866—90  — Lemcke,  C. 
Gabriel  Metsu  (in  Dohme's  Kunst  und  Kiinstler,  etc.).  Leipsic,  1878  — Philippi,  A.  Die 
Blute  der  Malerei  in  Holland.  Leipsic,  1901 — -Smith,}.  Catalogue  Raisonne.  London, 
1829-42  — Van  Dyke,  J.C.  Old  Dutch  and  Flemish  Masters.  NewYork,  1895  — Wed- 
more,  F.  The  Mastersof  Genre-Painting.  London,  1880  — Woltmann,  A. , and  Woer- 
mann,  K.  Geschichte  der  Malerei,  Leipsic,  1887-88. 

[252] 


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Bound  volumes  are  ^3.75  each  for  cloth,  $4.25  each  for  half-morocco,  express  prepaid.  Terms 
for  purchasing  the  complete  set  on  small  monthly  payments  will  be  sent  on  request. 


/TASTERS  IN  ART  was  established  in  January,  1900.  As  will  be 
A seen  from  the  following  list  of  painters  and  sculptors  covered  by  the 
first  six  years,  the  bound  volumes  form  a fairly  complete  reference  library  of 
Art.  I'he  subjects,  in  the  order  of  publication,  are  as  follows: 


The  Cloth  Binding  is  a brown  art  buckram,  with  heavy  bevelled  boards,  side  and 
back  stamps  in  frosted  and  burnished  gold,  from  designs  by  Mr.  B.  G.  Goodhue,  and 
gilt  top. 

The  Half-Morocco  Binding  is  in  green,  with  green  and  gold  marbled  paper  sides 
and  end  papers,  gold  tooled  back  designed  by  Mr.  B.  G.  Goodhue,  and  gilt  top. 

In  both  styles  of  binding  the  forwarding  is  most  thoroughly  done,  the  front  and 
bottom  edges  are  untrimmed. 


Volume  I (1900)  treats  of  Van  Dyck,  Titian,  Velasquez,  Holbein, 
Botticelli,  Rembrandt,  Reynolds,  Millet,  Giov.  Bellini,  Murillo,  Hals,  and 
Raphael. 

Volume  II  (igoi)  treats  of  Rubens,  Da  Vinci,  Diirer,  Michelangelo 
(Sculpture),  Michelangelo  (Painting),  Corot,  Burne-Jones,  Ter  Borch, 
Della  Robbia,  Del  Sarto,  Gainsborough,  and  Correggio. 

Volume  III  (1902)  treats  of  Phidias,  Perugino,  Holbein,  Tintoretto, 
Pieter  De  Hooch,  Nattier,  Paul  Potter,  Giotto,  Praxiteles,  Hogarth,  Tur- 
ner, and  Luini. 


Binding 


Volume  IV  (1903)  treats  of  Romney,  Fra  Angelico,  Watteau,  Ra- 
phael’s Frescos,  Donatello,  Gerard  Dou,  Carpaccio,  Rosa  Bonheur,  Guido 
Reni,  Puvis  De  Chavannes,  Giorgione,  and  Rossetti. 

Volume  V (1904)  treats  of  Fra 
Bartolommeo,  Greuze,  Diirer’s  En- 
gravings, Lotto,  Landseer,  Vermeer  of 
Delft,  Pintoricchio,  The  Brothers  Van 
Eyck,  Meissonier,  Barye,  Veronese, 
and  Copley. 

Volume  VI  (1905)  treats  of  Watts, 

Palma  Vecchio,  Madame  Vigee  Le 
Brun,  Mantegna,  Chardin,  Benozzo 
Gozzoli,  Jan  Steen,  Memling,  Claude 
Lorrain,  Verrocchio,  Raeburn,  Fra 
Filippo  Lippi. 


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lamp $27.50 

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These  special  Reflectors  are  used  by 
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